life

Picture’s Read

~
Life creates the lines we wear.
They’re traced upon the face we share.
Smiles turned up spread everyday joy.
Pouty faces think hearts a toy.
~
Lips arced down build no bridges.
Crinkled brows scaled ridges.
Eyes bright glow through the night,
eyes down dwelt shade their light.
~
Enthusiasm shines with a spark.
Heartache shines in the dark.
Time wrinkles the more we press.
Smooth is felt, not a guess.
~
Directions clear when maps unfold.
Routes we’ve drawn, our story told.
Hellos leave more to see.
Loves image is good bye free.
~
I wish for the lines of long ago.
I wish to watch that of another grow.
A fateful glance we’re sure to know,
little things make the big picture show.

~*~
SCK110118

Morning Triku #138 – Ends

~

May the Force be You

.

Seeing the bright side

can only enlighten the

time on the dark side

~

Red Read

.

The final haiku

will be writ large in the blood

of mankind’s silence

~

Day Dreaming Nightmare

.

If you’re the one of

my dreams how can I ever

believe you’re real

~*~

sck062516

Change

All are born with a pocketful of change.
Quantity’s irrelevant, it’ll all rearrange.
Heads or tails is all we’re to find.
We face our truths or lie behind.
~
Standing tall, shiny and bright,
how many tosses to land upright?
How many flips and wobbles and spins
or hands slapped and someone wins.
~
We can add and subtract, save or spend.
Though the odd’s even it just depends.
Change can jingle or bear the weight of earth.
What is shared counts our worth.

~*~
SCK111218

On a Roll

Her scent lingers, I flushed away.
I sense the push of another shitty day.
She polluted my mind and soiled my bed.
Leave me alone, get out of my head!
~
We fed our needs and ate our cake.
Her outside sweet, her inside’s fake.
Her taste and touch I felt were real.
Now pinched cheeks is all I feel.
~
My hand shades so not so crass,
this burst of gas I hope to pass.
And groan some notes for a while,
refreshing again this steaming pile.
~
Time trickles naturally.
But stand I must eventually.
A gentle pull will clear the residue.
Her memory wiped but some sticks like glue.

~*~
SCK112518

Morning Triku #175 ~ Second Period

Choose Choice

Life’s multiple choice
Our answers lessen with time
Questions grow harder
~

Schooled

Fears prevail feared
Tomorrow’s today’s earned
All will rise, some learned

~
Chances Are

Life is bad when sad
Or grand when on clouds we stand
And glad for the hand

~*~
SCK102818

Bird Brains

I woke up early and the sky was gray.
The world’s in turmoil yet I’ve little to say.
But the birds are happy in the mulberry tree.
I can hear them laughing, maybe at me.
~
They see our world from high above,
whether gull, robin or mourning dove.
Their time alive is soaring free,
while looking down on you and me.
~
For if to fly like a bird,
we’d then flock but never herd.
We’d hatch into a nest well made,
free of worry cos no rent’s paid.
~
Just think of the places we could go.
We could fly south before the snow.
We could eat berries, bugs and worms,
pretty much anything that wiggles or squirms.
~
There’d be no alarms or jobs we hate.
We could fly to the stars our very first date.
Then glide back down to a favorite tree.
There we’d rest harmoniously.
~
But we’re not birds and that’s a shame.
Our lives are grounded and mostly tame.
But if to wish on this day that’s gray,
I’d poop on those who stand in the way.
~
So maybe my wish is not about birds.
It’s about people I think are turds,
those who’ve prevented a world of peace,
for you and me and a gaggle of geese.

~*~
SCK070820

Skipper’s Lane

Around the bend from the church on main,
lies a quaint little street, called Skipper’s Lane.
T’was on this path a young lad dwelled,
before the streets’ name or the lad propelled.
~
The tale goes: At the head of a cove the sandbar’s long.
The water’s choppy and the currents strong.
A young lad fished, he netted all day.
At sunset he rowed to the town up the bay.
~
He traded his catch for supplies and some cash.
He then rowed back home and buried his stash.
Years soon passed and the lad’s now a man.
The time was now to dig up an old can.
~
The cans held his savings, he’s more than a few.
The man, now called Netty, had something to do.
Netty rowed into town, to buy but not sell.
He bought a new boat with a bright shiny bell.
~
He towed the boat home not knowing how to sail.
A year’s practice behind then caught in a gale.
Netty stayed calm, his life, spent afloat.
Home was in sight when he saw a tossed boat.
~
The boat missed the inlet, now blowing out to sea.
Though Netty unsure, he could not leave them be.
Adjusting his sails Netty raced to give aid.
Soaked and battered he would not be afraid.
~
Lost memories filled young Netty’s head.
Recalling the night, he was almost dead.
The sky was black and the water cold.
The ship sat heavy, filled with gold.
~
Remembering screams and cracking wood,
the ship’s bell rang, gone childhood.
The boy hit the water and woke on the shore.
The life he once knew was no more.
~
A crashing wave broke Netty’s trance,
one second more he’d lose his chance.
He leaned on his tiller to bring his boat near.
The boats colliding mustered everyone’s fear.
~
Netty thought quickly and dropped his sheet,
then heaved his net around a cleat.
He pulled and pulled with all his might.
His biggest catch was that stormy night.
~
All returned safely before the sun rose.
Netty now a hero was gifted new clothes.
New friends were made, now one’s Netty’s wife.
Recounting his memories he bought a new life.
~
The gold recovered, Netty bought lots of land.
He built a grand home well away from the sand.
The harbor in view he watches over his fleet.
The town, now prosperous, gave Netty a street.

~*~
SCK090825

Persistent

In this time of “writer’s block”,
I stare blankly at paper and clock.
With jumbled prose I try to think,
should life be guided by pen and ink?
~
Does a rhyme decide a story’s path?
Can a re-verse save us from the wrath?
The day is young; there are things to do,
but the sky’s gray with a snowy hue.
~
The air is cold, I’ll assume,
my spirit’s locked within a room.
Doors will open if I choose.
When all’s lost there’s none to lose.
~
Persistence colors the choices we make.
Is persistence for persistence sake?
Do we persist simply to win?
If direction’s unclear should we begin?
~
Like life, love, thought and art,
questions unanswered are the start.
Life ticks forward with us or without.
Thoughts will be shared without a doubt.
~
Art will be made with all the thoughts had.
And love makes life happy but also sad.
Dilemma’s obscure visions true.
A vision obscures my dilemma new.
~
I’m seeking an end to what’s now fraught.
The past’s the lesson of what’s been taught.
And like life, love, thought and art,
ends shade poetic an open heart.

~*~
SCK021819

A Brief History of Dragons

The earth still brewing,
new life was stewing.
Flora askew and fauna still new,
eat or be eaten was all they knew.
~
The ground untested, sulfur’s in the air.
Crazed creatures wandered unaware;
creepy crawly slithery things,
swimmers of seas and fliers with wings.
~
But tucked cozily in palaces of awe,
dragons feasted and pondered what they saw.
Intruders were meals, some thrown back.
And gardening was their tasty snack.
~
Millennia past but for the dragon too soon,
change was afoot with the handy baboon.
Their hordes grew and quickly spread.
The plundering’s swift but never to be fed.
~
The dragon’s numbers always small,
just a few thousand and that is all.
They’re all very patient and very, very smart.
Some of the elders saw this planet’s start.
~
A meeting was had, all without doubt.
The dragons decided to wait this breed out.
They hibernate now till mankind’s last blunder.
When happily woke to darkness and thunder.

~*~
SCK120618

Back and Forth

The pros and cons of death
are the ins and outs of breath.
The ups and downs of life
are the this and that’s of strife.

Forward or back, taut or slack,
fast or slow it’s the average we know
Top or bottom leaves in between.
Front and back the rest’s unseen.

Heads or tails the inner hides.
No coin has only just two sides.
Life is choices, more than two.
There’s more to it than me and you.

Books may contain all that’s known.
Everything else we’re on our own.
Soft or hard a landing’s assured.
Highs and lows are endured.

While ponderings spiral unabated,
decision’s made as we waited.
Time’s endless, though ours is not.
Hit or miss, it’s worth a shot.

~*~
SCK081418

Up Down Forward

I received a letter on Tuesday, last week.
The handwriting familiar, deserving of a peek,
it was written by me when I am much older.
The language’s strong, I’m certainly much bolder.
~
Curiosity peaked and horror’s at bay.
I couldn’t believe what I had to say.
Mistakes I’ll be making are such a huge sum.
The time I’ll be wasting makes my brain numb.
~
A warning I thought but that didn’t compute.
If anything changed my letter is moot.
It got me so worried I lay awake all night.
Realizing later I did enough things right.

~*~
SCK042822

Maybe a Sonnet

 I have a theory; it’s my “Maybe” theory

There are no formulas for anyone to see

Maybe it’s right or maybe it’s wrong

I don’t really mind, didn’t ponder it long

 ~

This theory may work for any occasion

Maybe I’ll theorize the mass of the sun

Maybe I’ll write the world’s longest poem

Or maybe I’ll roam the old streets of Rome

~

Maybe this cloudy day ends in a starry night

Maybe there’s peace and no one to fight

Maybe the sun will rise, maybe it won’t

Though we’ll never know it if it don’t

 ~

Maybe maybe may be enough

Maybe not if you want more stuff

Maybe can be a word you don’t want to hear

As in “Maybe I love you, my darling dear”

 ~

Maybe my theory’s not such a great call

Maybe maybe’s just maybe after all

 ~

Sck022815

Celestial Time

Embers fade, waning moon

Sounds of day coming soon

Nights of bliss with our love

Counting stars that dance above

*

Sharing secrets from the past

Recalling joy that didn’t last

Time’s treasured in the dark

Horizons clear with the rising arc

*

By day we grow, eves recede

Priorities given to what we need

Quills in hand, arm in arm we’ll fly

Soaring and diving in the endless sky

*

In search of a hilltop on which to lie

It is here I’d wish to die

To rest and ponder life’s miracle

Where the arc becomes full circle

~*~

Sck061715